Nine Long Years
by Kat253ox
Summary: I'm not naïve. I know that this won't last; I know that this is a temporary truce in the battle of silence and hostility that's been going on between us. But maybe, just maybe, there's hope for us. Even after nine long years. -Lily's POV about Petunia.


**Nine Long Years**

She sits behind me, brushing my hair. With every stroke the brush makes, she follows the brush down with her hand, subconsciously. I remember the last time she brushed my hair: she would always stroke it afterwards, to stop it going static. She still does that, as though she'd never stopped. I think, that if I'd known the last time she ever brushed my hair would be the last time, I would have appreciated it. I wouldn't have made her rush through the one hundred strokes. I wouldn't have hurried off after just thirty-four of them, to go to the park, and show her how far I could fly off the swings. And keep flying away from her, for nine long years.

But even if I'd cherished the moment, the inevitable would still have come. Severus would have told me what I was at another time, if he couldn't that one summer's day. I still would have received the letter confirming all of Severus' tales, on my eleventh birthday. I still would have gone to Hogwarts, and she still would have ignored me, resented me, hated me, for those nine long years.

And on my last birthday, my nineteenth birthday, I came home to her, just to see her and speak to her. James had just proposed to me, asked me to spend the rest of my life with him, and I had agreed immediately – it wasn't necessary to think about it, or even to consider any other options. And when he dropped me off at home, I stood out in the garden, where she and I used to play together for hours. I walked around our 'restaurant', the tree stumps where we would seat our parents, the bush behind which we would mix up 'delicious' meals for them together now all covered with a sullen frost, and the memories came back, lighting up a darkened corner of my mind. And I knew who the first person I wanted to tell about James' happy words was. Her. Even though she hadn't spoken to me since my first day at Hogwarts. Even though she hadn't told me about her wedding, hadn't even invited me to it other than lumped in with mum and dad. Even after nine long years.

When I asked her to be my bridesmaid, to follow me down the aisle, just as I followed her for the first ten years of my life, I was afraid she would refuse. Not afraid of humiliation. Not afraid of being left without a bridesmaid. Afraid that she still hated me. The startled look in her eyes when I asked her, 'Be my bridesmaid, Tuney?' would have been comical if not for the fear rising in my throat. And then she smiled at me. A true smile, one that lit up her features as the harvest moon does the earth, one that you wouldn't have believed possible on such a thin, bony face, one that was still hiding inside her. Still there, after those nine long years.

And she braved the overwhelming crowds of Diagon Alley with me. There, where I had tried to take her, when I was just eleven years old. I had wanted to share the experience with her, not realising in my naivety that it would only hurt her more when she couldn't come to school with me. She realised. She refused to come. She ruined what should have been one of the best days of my life. Yet I never resented her for it. And now she complied, she agreed to come to Diagon Alley, asking what kind of bridesmaid doesn't help the bride pick out a dress, sort out the catering, arrange the reception. She pretended that she was doing it only out of a sense of responsibility, but I know that really, she still cares. Still wants to fulfil those dreams about our weddings that we had when we were little girls. Still wants to be there for me, after nine long years.

And today, for the first time in nine long years, she came into my bedroom this morning with the same old words ('rise and shine little Lily, it's time to face the morning'). She chuckled in the same way when I groaned and ducked under the covers to shield my eyes from the brightness that darted in through the uncovered windows. She threatened to get a bucket of cold water when I rolled over in an attempt to go back to sleep, although she knows that I know she wouldn't really soak me so brutally. She raised a sarcastic eyebrow when I attempted to glare at her while still shielding my eyes from the light. She played her role in our little morning charade just as well as she did when we were young, even after nine long years.

Now she's sitting still, letting me arrange her hair, have let me choose her dress, letting me direct her as to how to look and how to act today. This is the one part of the past few days that hasn't had me floating around in a cloud of déjà vu: never before did she give me so much control over her looks and behaviour. But it's not an entirely new feeling. I know that she still trusts me, still believes in me, and still wants to please me when it matters most. Still, after these nine long years.

I'm not naïve. I know that this won't last; I know that this is a temporary truce in the battle of silence and hostility that's been going on between us; I know that, come tomorrow, we'll resume the roles we've been playing for these nine long years. But at least this time, I'll know that it is possible for us the return easily to our childhood relationship. I'll wonder if maybe we can just keep in touch, that no matter how sporadically, we might at least write to each other. And I'll hope that, perhaps in another nine years' time, we can be reunited just as we have are today.

Even if it's only a possibility, at least I can hope that maybe, just maybe, there's hope for us. Even after nine long years.

**A.N.: **My Christmas present to you. It's quite different to my usual style - I'm not sure how much I like it, but that's how it ended up when the idea got out onto paper. What do you think? Remember, Christmas is the time for giving, and what better way to give to me than by reviewing? Have a great Christmas everyone.  
-Kat253ox


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